


Explorations in Human Copulation

by Khawapashi



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Committed Relationship, Devoted Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Hand Jobs, Married Reylo, Mechanic Rey (Star Wars), Medical Examination, Non-Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, PTSD, Painful Sex, Past Sexual Abuse, Professor Ben Solo, Sex Toys, Stress Baking, Vaginismus, Very uncomfortable discussions with doctors, adult toy stores, sex therapy, sex-positive and supportive Rose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khawapashi/pseuds/Khawapashi
Summary: Rey and Ben have been married for three years, and they're happy, they really are. They love each other, they love living together, they love all the little intimacies they get to share with each other every day, even the annoying ones.It's just there's one thing. And Rey obsesses over it, because it should be simple. She's an adult woman with a caring, gorgeous husband and she wants him. She does. All the time, every day, in fact. And they have plenty of orgasms, so it's not even that.But for some reason, she just can't get her body to relax enough for penetrative sex. And she's beginning to think that maybe she's broken.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo
Comments: 24
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for all my girls out there who have ever looked down at their body and thought "what the fuck is wrong with you?" or had to stop in the middle of something you really WANTED for reasons that are just beyond your control. Who have been to all the places and gotten all the good lube and expensive toys and swallowed your pride and brought it up with a doctor and been brushed off.
> 
> You're not alone ;)
> 
> TW: There will be some mentions of past sexual abuse brought up in therapy settings. I'll try to put a warning before each of those chapters, so those who still want to read can skip around it.

They start like they always do, coming together like winter waves, but hot, Ben's hands warm and solid and everywhere and Rey, biting his lip so she can gasp in a breath and then diving back in savagely. They explore with mouths and tongues, licking the hollows where bone and muscle joint under the skin, familiar now with what evokes the best, most broken sounds from the other.

And then his fingers trace over her stomach, outline the divot of her navel and skim over her hips, slide inside the simple, thin cotton underwear - she still has the silk and the lace, but they're for special times, packed carefully for vacations, revealed mischievously on birthdays and anniversaries - do away with it quickly, that first touch of skin to skin still enough to make her shudder and seize and whine his name. He's careful, so very careful, because they both know how this can go, how her body will shut them down if they don't ease into it like coaxing a feral kitten to come out and play.

The thing is, she wants this. Wants it desperately, has always wanted it, but…

But.

"Ben, stop." She can feel it, and she knows he can too, is almost afraid to say anything, although he has never, never ever, given her a reason to fear his wrath or his disappointment. Still, his sigh is enough to make her defensive.

"Just let me… let me lick you, I'll get you wet," he pleads, and now it's her turn to sigh. He glances up when he's halfway down, hands curved around her hips, a slight frown on those soft warm lips that Rey wishes she could just kiss away. "You don't want that?"

"No, I do." He tilts his head and they share a look. She smiles. "Okay."

Sometimes, it's enough. He has long fingers and wide hands and a very clever tongue and he's had plenty of time to practice, so when it works, it works really well. Like blood boiling and angels signing and that tsunami of pleasure that leaves her mind blissfully empty and satisfied, and fucking silent for once. It's wonderful - beyond wonderful - like sinking into a hot bath with a mouthful of her favorite gourmet chocolate and then some.

It feels good leading up to it, too. He uses his tongue slowly to draw her out, little soft laps at first, the hot wet drag coaxing her to relax, to shift her hips back and widen her thighs and seek more. Ben loves to hear her make noise, but she's not naturally loud, it goes against her instinct to keep careful control of herself, her body, her surroundings - Rey is always aware of everything around her.

Hypervigilant, her psychiatrist calls it. Because of… things that happened before. Before Ben was even a part of her life. She's been with him longer than she was in that place, the before place, but bad memories seem to have more weight than the good ones. There's nothing to learn, no lesson to memorize, internalize, when everything is going well.

He knows about it, some of it. They don't keep secrets, God bless him.

So when Rey is affected enough, finally, to close her eyes and gasp, making the soft, pleading noises that accompany the little jerks of her hips, chasing his tongue, he looks up at her with one of his rare, genuine smiles.

"Okay, sweetheart?"

"Yes. Don't stop, Ben," she begs, one hand diving into the thick dark waves of his hair, tugging demandingly. She can feel him shiver and smiles her own small, private smile. He likes it when she pulls on his hair, it's half the reason he keeps it as long as he does. "Oh, God, Ben!"

She's spread out now, beneath his hot mouth, enough that he can latch on and suck, alternating with quick, rapid jabs of the point of his tongue against her secret little pearl. Rey keens, arching, and she feels him shift on the bed, the tip of one finger dragging tender circles around her entrance, collecting her moisture and gently pushing it inside of her.

"Mm," she bites her lip, feeling the slight stretch even around that small intrusion. "I need more."

"Sure," he sits up, crawling over her slightly to dig in the little storage cube beside their bed, coming up with a familiar bottle.

Rey watches him pour a generous amount on his fingers, the first two of his right hand, and then closes her eyes, teeth returning to her lip.

Inwardly, she sighs, because she can tell already that it isn't going to be enough, but she doesn't give up easily. Ben's finger slips inside with ease, this time, and Rey wills herself to relax, to just let go and let it happen. She trusts this man with her life and everything in it. Why is it so hard for her traitorous body to trust him as well?

He tries a second finger and she knows she has to stop him. To his credit, he freezes as soon as her hand closes over his wide wrist.

"Rey? Sweetheart?"

She shakes her head, and frustratingly, she finds herself crying.

"Rey!" He shifts gears masterfully, lurching to his knees, taking her into his arms, holding her against his chest and stroking her back in soothing sweeps. Ben's hands make her feel like she's a child, but they are oddly comforting that way, maybe because she can never remember actually being a child.

"It's just… This is so stupid. I love you, I want to, you know I do -" She cuts herself off with a harsh sob, threading her arms around his neck and just hanging on as her chest heaves with great, gasping sobs.

"I know, it's okay."

"No, it's not! I hate this… this stupid broken body… you deserve better, you deserve a wife who can…" she shakes her head, and Ben's arms grow almost uncomfortably tight as he lowers his face to press his lips into her hair. "...who can do, you know, wifely duties…"

He doesn't say anything, but he holds her and kisses her and rocks them both, slowly, waiting for her to cry herself out. There's nothing really to say, they have had this conversation over and over, and Ben has been more than clear that he still wants her, every part of her, even this. He is not a man who finds it necessary to repeat himself, although sometimes she wishes he would, just to remind the broken parts of her that they're wrong.

"You want to try the gel? Or one of your anxiety pills?" He offers, but Rey is so tired of all this.

It's stupid. She's twenty-six years old. They've been married for three years. There's no reason for her to have to go to all these lengths just to have sex once in a blue moon.

And forget trying for children. Getting her rare moods of relaxation to sync up with her ovulation cycles is like… a cosmic fucking event. Like a solar eclipse. Theoretically, it could happen, but realistically, well. They're saving up for in vitro.

"Can you make me a cup of tea?" She asks finally, reluctantly disengaging herself. Ben cups her cheek, kisses her just as warmly as always, and gets up to find his pajama pants.

"You want your biscuits?" He smirks slightly, the British-American terminology mix up still amusing to him, and Rey laughs and nods.

"Bring the box."

"How are you today?"

"I don't know," Rey deflects, fidgeting on the worn, tan-colored suede sofa, fingers smoothing down the edges of her skirt.

"Well," Maz tilts her head, not looking at the movements of Rey's hands even though she knows the older woman sees, takes note of her nervousness. Not much gets past those sharp, wise eyes. "Let's start with how you're feeling right now. Are you happy to be here? Upset? Bored?"

The last suggestion brings out a slight smile, their eyes meet as she glances up at Maz and there's a well of kindness in her expression, crinkling the corners of her eyes, enlarged by her glasses. 

Rey likes her therapist. Sure, she's older, semi-retired, and Rey's had to explain the word 'yeet' to her several times and Maz still doesn't really get how Twitter works, but she's surprisingly sharp when it comes to figuring out how Rey's mind is fucking her over at any given time. And she may not understand the mechanics of social media, but she's never made Rey feel stupid for valuing her interactions there, or rolled her eyes at the importance she places on the books and video games she enjoys. It's all just a different kind of community to Maz, just like a knitting group or book club or church, and she treats it the same.

"I'm not bored," Rey laughs. "But I'm… I guess you could say I'm upset."

"Alright," Maz nods, purple gel pen scratching in her little notebook. This one has kittens on it, she must have started a new one. Last time Rey was here, it was rainbow-striped zebras. "Do you want to tell me why you're upset? Is it something you did, or something else that happened?"

"I…" Rey has to really think about this, turning it over and over in her mind, applying all the cognitive behavioral therapy skills she's accumulated over the years. "It's not my  _ fault _ ," she explains, "I know that, but it's… complicated. I don't know," she sighs heavily, dropping her face into one hand, as if hiding from Maz will let her hide from herself, mumbling, "it's always  _ something _ ."

Her therapist is quiet, she knows Rey well enough now to know that she's just talking herself up to it, she'll get there eventually. Instead,Maz sits back in her wheeled desk chair, letting the high wings dwarf her not quite five foot frame, and waits quietly, pen tapping against her lips.

"I just want to have sex with my husband," she blurts out finally, still hiding her face. "I know that sounds stupid, but -"

"No, it doesn't," Maz says quietly. "Why do you think it sounds stupid?"

"Because…" Rey shifts around, turns her face up to look at Maz and realizes she's crying. The therapist holds out a box of tissues - Maz always has the softest tissues - and Rey grabs a handful, but doesn't use them yet. She just sniffs, blinking down at her lap. "I mean, it's just sex. It's not like it's  _ necessary _ or anything."

"I think most people would agree sex is pretty important in a romantic relationship," Maz says quietly. "There's nothing wrong with wanting intimacy with your husband."

"But it's so petty. And it's not like… We aren't trying to have children right now, or anything. And we do… other things. It's not like we're completely celebate or anything," she dabs at her eyes and wipes her nose, folding the tissue carefully in her hands. "It's just, you know, the actual… It hurts, when he tries to… I try to relax and we have lube, but my body just freezes and gets all tense and it just doesn't want to work."

"Is that something your husband wants? To have full penetrative intercourse? Is he… asking for it a lot?" Maz is delicate with the phrasing, but it still makes Rey recoil and she shakes her head adamantly.

"No, no, of course not! Ben's not like that, I swear. He keeps telling me it's okay," she frowns slightly, giving Maz a dark look despite her therapist's worried gaze. "Please don't think that, Ben would never push me to do anything that hurt me. This is just me. I mean, I'm sure he wants it just as bad as I do, but he's not like… begging me, or trying to manipulate me, or anything like that. We don't really even talk about it. Last time I had to ask him to stop, he just brought me tea and biscuits."

"It certainly sounds like he's very supportive," Maz comments, again quietly. "So why do you feel the need for intercourse? Are the "other things" you're doing not satisfying?"

"No, I mean, they are, it's just… we're married. We want kids, one day, and it would be nice not to have to pay a fortune for it. And you know, Ben is…" she bites her lip, not exactly wanting to look Maz in the eye. "He's really hot, like… he could have anyone, you know? But he's mine and I want to have him in every way I can."

Maz chuckles softly. "You're very protective of him, aren't you? And you almost sound a little bit possessive there. Are you afraid if you don't have sex with him, he's going to be seeking it from someone else?"

"No -" Rey stops herself. He wouldn't, would he?

But honestly, why not? She could see it. Visiting one of those swinger's clubs, finding a girl they were both into, watching Ben fuck her. That might actually be… Hmm.

Rey puts it on the back burner, for now. He might not even be interested. But it can't hurt to do a little research. She knows some of her friends are involved in that scene, maybe she'll ask around, too. Poe can't keep a secret to save his life, but Rose would at least listen to her thoughts and give her an honest response.

"I don't think he would," she tells Maz, finally. "But if he wanted to, I wouldn't mind."

"Are you sure of that? You're talking about Ben, here, that husband that's so attractive he could have all the girls he wants -"

"-or boys," Rey adds with a slight smile. "We're both bisexual."

"Okay, boys too, then," Maz amends. "Would you really be okay with him spending the night with someone else while you're alone, or just sitting by, watching? Watching him touch them, kiss them, undress -"

Rey can feel a dark sort of anger rising at the thought of that, of some stranger taking off her husband's clothes, dragging their hands down his wide shoulders, tracing the sculpted muscles there. Putting their mouth on his neck and huffing hot breaths into his ear. Ben with his hands on someone else's hips, moving with them, sliding  _ inside _ and thrusting -

"I don't know. I need to think about it," she sighs. "I'd like to  _ think _ I'm okay with it, but… Part of me is really afraid that when he finds out what it's like with someone else, he won't want me anymore. Because I'm broken and he's perfect, he doesn't deserve to be stuck with me -"

"Stop. Listen to yourself. Where is that coming from?"

"Where's what coming from?"

"That voice that says you're broken. Who is that? Is that you who thinks that? And just exactly how is it that you're broken, Rey?" Maz is again the voice of wisdom, gently guiding her away from the familiar refrain of self-loathing.

“I don’t know,” she says immediately, and then stops. Actually, she does know. She was in a group home for a while, from the ages of nine to fourteen, and they had to participate in group therapy. Rey had hated it,  _ everyone _ hated it, but it was required, otherwise they’d take away privileges like going to the library or watching TV or those very rare field trips to the mall or the park that got them somewhere besides school and home for a few hours.

There had been a girl she roomed with for a while, Jyn Erso. They’d gotten along much better than any of her other roommates, mostly because Jyn seemed to prefer the quiet as much as Rey, and she had her own iPod and earbuds that she would occasionally volunteer to share with her.

_ “This is stupid, we’re all too broken, no one’s gonna adopt us or whatever,” _ Jyn had said once in group.  _ “You’re trying to fix us, but you can’t. We know it, you know it, and it’s stupid to pretend.” _

“One of my roommates at Avalon,” she tells Maz haltingly. “She said we were all broken. They were trying to fix us, but it wasn’t going to work and they should just let us be.”

_ “You can’t fix this level of broken,” _ Jyn had been so full of hostility towards adults, even though she was never anything but kind to Rey.  _ “You’ve got our files, you know what happened. We didn’t get to be kids. We got broke right off the line. The best we’ll ever be is grown-ups without a criminal record. _ ”

“She said the best we’d ever be is to not have a criminal record,” Rey laughs slightly, self-deprecating, more bitter than she usually lets out. “So I guess I did the best I could.”

“And you agree with your friend Jyn? You think you’re still broken, even though you have a good marriage and own your own business and never got arrested?” Maz’s kind eyes are sharp, they press at her gently, but Rey doesn’t know what kind of answer she’s looking for. She’s been in therapy all her life, and she still doesn’t know how to answer.

“I guess so.”

“Rey,” Maz sighs, and then her little phone alarm goes off, reminding them that they have five minutes left. “I’d like to write you a referral to another therapist.”

Rey’s mouth falls open, and she stares at Maz feeling more than slightly betrayed. 

“What? Why?”

“I’m not going to stop seeing you, don’t worry. I just think you could benefit from someone who specializes in these things more than I do. If you don’t want to see her, it’s okay, but I think it would help you.” She pauses to write down a name and number on her little flowered notepad and tears it off. “You could take Ben, too.”

Rey blinks down at the name and number in her hand, not understanding.  _ Amilyn Holdo, _ it says,  _ Intimacy and Couples Counseling _ . There’s a number, too, but Rey doesn’t look at it. 

Carefully, she folds the paper and slides it into her pocket. 

“I’ll think about it.”

“Why don’t you bring it up with your husband?” Maz asks slyly. Ben has been known to be her ally when it comes to convince Rey to do things for herself, things she knows will help her, but she just can’t bring herself to take the time out of her busy day to do.

“I guess,” she concedes, unhappily, knowing that she will now. It’s not that she feels obligated to share every detail of her therapy sessions with her husband, but this is a problem that involves him, too, and not talking about it, tossing the number and never bringing it up again like she was planning to do, will feel like keeping secrets.

They promised in their vows not to do that. There are reasons.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hi, Rey, this is Kaydel with Amilyn Holdo’s office. I’m returning your call to schedule an appointment?” 
> 
> Her voice is soft and kind, exactly how a therapist’s office should be, although Dr. Kanata’s office sometimes seems to forget that their business caters to emotionally unstable people who don’t always respond well to bullying. Still, just hearing the pleasant voice does something to lift her mood, and Rey is easy enough giving out her details - demographics, insurance, emergency contact - right until Kaydel innocently asks what she’s coming in to see Amilyn about.

"Alright, lift her up a little more?" Rose Tico is all business at the moment, wiping grease-blackened hands on her brown coveralls while scowling at the Toyota she had just been under.

Rey goes to the switches and pushes the wrong ones without thinking about it, and suddenly Rose is not business-minded at all. This is what Rey loves about her best friend, she doesn't have a dishonest or fake bone in her body, she's good at her job, takes it extremely seriously, but she takes her friends and family seriously, too.

"Okay, spill," Rose demands, eyeing her narrowly as Rey corrects her error and lifts the car up on the motorized jack so they can get a good look underneath it.

"Mr. Ackbar will be here in an hour," Rey reminds her instead.

"It's just an oil change," Rose rolls her eyes dismissively. "If I can get the damn drain plug off. Come on talk to me, I need the distraction."

"My therapist wants me to go see another therapist," Rey sighs finally, handing Rose a drain pan. "I'm still going to see her, this is just a 'specialist,'" she explains with air quotes.

"Is it about the sex thing?" Rey is too quiet, she knows she's giving herself away, but she knows Rose, thinks of her like the sister she never had, and she's confided in her business partner and best friend plenty of times. She's one of the few people Rey has ever been able to bring herself to trust, and that's practically a medal of honor, right there.

Rose is the one who recommended lube, and specific toys, and dragged her red-faced, stuttering arse to the sex shop to help her pick things out. It's Rose who suggested she bring it up with her therapist, and because she loves Rey, she knows better than to leave it there.

Still.

"She's a couples therapist," Rey admits. "Not because of Ben, he's a brick, really, but…"

"But you're still hung up on the 'vaginal sex has to be part of marriage' thing."

Rose isn't judging, not really. After all, she's the one who keeps telling her it's not a big deal, that sex is different for everyone, that if orgasms are happening it's sex, it doesn't have to be penetrative, etc, etc. She means well, and she loves Rey, but there are aspects of Rey that not even her best friend gets.

"It's not wrong to want it," she defends, and Rose shoots her frown.

"I didn't mean it was."

They’re interrupted by the sound of Rey’s phone playing the theme song from _Lord of the Rings_ , and she steps through the open garage bay into the parking lot to answer the call, wiping blackened fingers on the chamois cloth at her belt. After her last phone took a dive from her pocket and exploded on the hard concrete of the shop floor, Ben had gotten her a dark blue Otterbox with the new one. He’s thoughtful like that, always paying attention to the things she says, sometimes more than Rey even does, and her chest aches a little with how much she loves him. Their relationship is apparently so sickeningly sweet their friends have a tendency to make disgusted noises when they do or say something obvious in front of them, but Ben doesn’t pay it any mind, even his friend Hux’s biting sarcasm rolls off of his back like a duck under water.

“Yes?” She answers, just barely managing to catch it before it goes to voicemail. The number was unfamiliar, but the prefix is the same as Dr. Kanata’s office, so she’s pretty sure who it is. 

Nevertheless, her voice is unusually crisp, and when she sees herself in the reflection of the shop’s glass front door, she realizes she’s scowling.

“May I speak to Rey Solo?”

“Speaking.” She doesn’t mean to be so abrasive, it’s not the scheduling clerk’s fault that Rey’s vagina is so broken she needs _two_ therapists, but it is what it is.

“Hi, Rey, this is Kaydel with Amilyn Holdo’s office. I’m returning your call to schedule an appointment?” 

Her voice is soft and kind, exactly how a therapist’s office _should_ be, although Dr. Kanata’s office sometimes seems to forget that their business caters to emotionally unstable people who don’t always respond well to bullying. Still, just hearing the pleasant voice does something to lift her mood, and Rey is easy enough giving out her details - demographics, insurance, emergency contact - right until Kaydel innocently asks what she’s coming in to see Amilyn about.

“Don’t you have records from Dr. Kanata’s office?” She almost growls. _Deep breath,_ she tells herself, trying to visualize one of her mindfulness exercises, the one where she accepts the emotions she’s feeling, acknowledging them like any physical discomfort, cold or a scratch from her cat, something that’s there, but she can’t do anything about at the moment. _I can process this in a minute. Just get through this one phone call._

“We do, but we like to have a few words of your own so the therapist knows what to focus on right now,” Kaydel explains, seeming unconcerned by her hostility. “What do you hope to accomplish with these visits?”

“Oh,” Rey pauses, scrambling to put together a coherent string of words. “I - I have issues with… with past trauma, and it… it’s causing intimacy… issues… between me and my husband.”

That’s about the most clinical way she can think of to describe it, and she hopes they don’t want further clarification, because she’s standing outside of the oil and tire shop that she owns, where potential customers and her own employees could overhear, and she is not going to go into any more detail. She’s not.

“Okay,” she hears the clack of computer keys, “will your husband be joining you for this first visit?”

“Um, is that okay? I can come alone.”

“It’s up to you,” Kaydel answers kindly. “For something like this, it might be better if you met with Amilyn privately first, but there’s no real right way to go about it.”

“Okay.” She breathes out, realizing that for some reason she’s nearly gulping air, like she’s being held at gunpoint or something. _Good Christ, get a hold of yourself_. “I guess just me this time.”

They go on to schedule an hour-long intake appointment for a month from now, with Kaydel apologizing that it’s so far out, and rey telling her it’s no big deal, even though a good half of her just wants to march down there right now and get this over with. She makes a note of the co-pay, grateful for Ben’s internet security job and the benefits it comes with while still being irritated at the American system costing so much, and the clerk asks if she has any more questions.

“No, I think that’s everything.”

“Great! So we’ll see you for your scheduled appointment, Rey!” Kaydel says in a warm tone, far more excited about this than Rey will ever be at the prospect of therapy.

“Great,” she echoes unenthusiastically, but the call has already ended. 

Sighing heavily, she slips the phone back in her pocket and thinks hard about walking across the street to the convenience store on the corner and buying a pack of cigarettes. It’s been years, but she could really go for one right now. Or so she thinks, anyway. In reality, she’d probably throw up before she finished a whole one, but for a minute she’s happy with the fantasy, distracting herself from the fact that she has a whole ‘nother month to wait until she can finally, maybe, get some help with her stupid traitorous body.

  
  


She’s the first one home, but by the time she changes out of her grubby work clothes, washes her hair twice and scrubs as much grease and black sludge as she can from her hands, she can smell something delicious coming from the kitchen. Throwing on pajama bottoms and a loose t-shirt over her only clean bralette, she ambles around the bathroom, brushing her teeth, starting a fresh load of laundry, cleaning the sink and countertops, washing her hands again - she’s stalling and she knows it, but doesn’t want to think of why.

“Rey?” 

She’s never been able to resist responding to the sound of his voice, even a little, especially not when he says her name like that, slow and warm and whiskey-low.

“Hey,” she calls out halfway down the stairs, nearly tripping over Zuko, who blends in nearly perfectly with the dark carpeting and likes to stalk feet. “Oy! Get out of the way, you absolute menace!”

Ben pokes his head out of the kitchen, spoon held between his lips, and she laughs, stooping down to pick up their little bastard of a cat and bringing him, squirming, along with her. “He’s trying to kill me again, I swear it.”

“But then you’d be dead and he could eat you,” Ben teases easily, letting her pluck the spoon from his mouth after she dumps Zuko in front of his food dish. The cat whines anyway, they’re in the kitchen, so of course they should be providing him with wet food, and they both look at him, chuckling. 

“Not time yet, Fire Lord,” he admonishes, while Rey waves the spoon threateningly.

Fire Lord Zuko is unamused. Ben kisses her on the top of the head, breathing in against her wet hair, piled up in a messy bun, and when she turns to invite more kisses, they both proceed to ignore his highness until the cat disappears, floofy black tail waving against Rey’s legs as he departs.

“Can’t really blame him,” Ben smiles, pulling away to tend the stove with reluctance. “You taste good.”

“Ben!” They do the thing where he looks at her, undiscouraged, and Rey pretends to be scandalized, slapping his arm with minimal strength. “What’s for dinner?”

“Screw dinner, let’s skip to dessert.”

“You’re in a mood today,” she teases, trying and failing to get a glimpse of the stove over his shoulder. It smells like garlic and peppers and steak and the rice maker is on, so she’s pretty sure it’s their favorite stir-fry beef, but she gives up quickly and just shoots him an amused look. “Good day at work?”

“Mmm,” he steals the spoon back, without giving her a peek. “Go sit down and find us something to watch, I’ll plate this and bring it in in a second.”

Rey skims through their streaming services, but she can't find anything she's really in the mood for, so she just puts on something they've already watched, something she doesn't have to pay attention to. When Ben comes in with two glasses of red wine, he raises an eyebrow, but doesn't really question it, just sets them down and goes back for the food, and they're quiet at first, sitting companionably close on the couch. The stir-fry is as good as it always is, and no matter how nervous she is, Rey never picks at her food, she is the opposite of a picky eater. Somehow, he notices there's something up anyway, probably because she doesn't ask for more and instead takes up her wine glass, sipping and staring without really following what's on the TV. 

"Rey? Sweetheart?" She starts, almost spilling her wine, and Ben gives her a piercing look before reaching over to take her glass and setting them both on the coffee table. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," she sighs, but scoots closer, wordlessly demanding cuddles by pressing against him. 

His arms envelope her, still toned as steel despite going a little softer since he discharged from the National Guard and started working at home last year. Rey closes her eyes and breathes him in, the usual scents of the kitchen and his aftershave an the deep, piney scent that is just Ben. 

_Home_ , she thinks, sighing with contentment. It's the only scent she's ever associated with home. She loves their condo, and the shop she and Rose worked so hard for and cozy, musty smell of Zuko's fur, but Ben is _home._ He kisses the top of her head and lazily drags a thumb up and down her arm, and she never wants to move ever again.

Rey closes her eyes, and when she opens them again, she's ready.

"Dr. Kanata is sending me to a couples therapist," she says, eyes still half-unfocused on the TV. Zuko wanders in, sniffing disdainfully at their empty plates, trying to bat at a fork before Ben rudely nudges him off with a foot and he growls back, but doesn't try it again, drawing out a little bit of a smile from Rey. 

"You're a pest," she scolds the cat, who stares up with mournfull yellow eyes. 

"Why a couples therapist?" Ben prompts after a minute.

He doesn't sound the least bit threatened or defensive, he's so secure in their relationship, it kind of makes her heart ache a little. This would be so much easier - everything in her life would be easier - if her ability to trust hadn't been utterly broken long before Ben came into the picture.

"The sex thing, mostly."

"Yeah, I kinda figured," he shifts to tilt his head, so he can see her face, but keeps her in his arms, the comforting weight keeping her grounded. "But I mean, what… How does that even work? We don't even know if it's a therapy thing, or if you need a real doctor -"

Rey shudders, and he rubs his thumb over her arm again to soothe her. She's been to doctors, but so far they haven't been very helpful, although that's partly because she doesn't know how to phrase things, how to even bring it up without choking on her tongue and going away in silent frustration. Of course, she hasn't brought Ben with her, because that sort of thing is embarrassing enough, but she really should. He has no fear of authority, he's not shy, although he's sometimes quiet and a little taciturn when Rey's health is at stake, it's just because uncertainty makes him angry. Not at her, never at her, but it doesn't matter why, she can't handle that aspect of him, can't really handle visible anger in _anyone_ , so she's resisted involving him so far. 

Maybe that's something they can work on with this new therapist. Rey makes a mental note to put it in her journal, because it's still a month out and she knows she won't remember by then. Another gift of childhood trauma, her memory is absolutely garbage, but sometimes that's a blessing.

"I don't know," she answers him finally, "I guess I'll just have to talk to her and see. It's not for another month."

"Great," he sighs and she tenses, and he's immediately shifting, apologizing. "No, I didn't mean it that way, don't, Rey. Please."

"Okay, okay," she takes a deep breath, then sits up and reclaims her wine glass, downing the whole thing and holding it out to him with pleading eyes. "This is definitely a two-glass night."

"Sure, sweetheart." 

He kisses the top of her head,any moodiness forgotten, and she can hear him teasing Zuko in the kitchen, probably giving him a piece of forbidden meat, before he comes back with her full glass and the bottle. She sips this time, eventually rearranging herself to rest her feet in his lap, and Zuko, predictably, jumps up to lay like a breathing, vibrating blanket on her stomach.

Ben pets them both absently, and when Rey is nearly falling asleep, she hears him switch on the PlayStation and pick up his headphones. His voice is a low murmur as he interacts with other players as quietly as possible, and the familiar rumble soothes her as long as she doesn't try too hard to pick out the words. 

Rey drifts in a pleasant fog, trying very hard to think of nothing at all, and when that fails, wiggling her feet in Ben's lap or running her fingers through the sleek texture of Zuko's floof. Her boys, keeping her grounded as always.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are Van Gough prints on the walls, interspersed with shelves holding a fascinating collection of pop culture items, from a small lego model of The Enterprise to a painted glass TARDIS and some kind of wand Rey thinks is from Harry Potter. There’s an old-fashioned wooden desk dominating one corner of the room, and amidst the potted plants Rey spies several unmistakable items in pink plastic bins that make her cheeks flush so much she almost misses the degrees hanging on the wall behind it.
> 
> Amilyn watches her take in the room with a faintly amused twinkle in her eyes, then gestures Rey towards the couch, taking up a position opposite her in a large wingback with crushed velvet upholstery that has seen better days.
> 
> “Not what you expected?” The therapist quips as she settles in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is turning out to be way more personal than I expected it to be, and I expected it to get personal, but damn.
> 
> I just want to point out to any savvy reader that any flaws or faults in Ben and Rey's personalities and how they approach different aspects of their relationship are there on purpose and will be explored further on. Obviously, Rey has been in therapy for a while, but Ben is not perfect either - they are both human and each have their own hurdles to overcome. We don't love people because they're perfect, we love them because we feel they deserve to be loved.
> 
> CW// There is a very brief mention of past sexual abuse/trauma and anxiety related to it. It's very brief and not explicit, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.

Rey’s not really a morning sex kind of person, but sometimes on Fridays, when they close the shop up early, there’s homemade sangria and boardgames at the Tico’s house, where Rose and Finn live with Rose’s sister and one of Finn’s college friends as roommates, splitting the cost of a four-bedroom, two-and-a-half bathroom bungalow in the nicer part of the foothills. Occasionally, Ben will score something a little stronger and smokier than Rose’s sangria from one of his students. This time, Poe, the college buddy, appears with some magic brownies that taste absolutely terrible, but do the trick. Not normally the type to overindulge, a few nibbles do amazing things for Rey’s nerves, and at four a.m., when she finds herself slowly awakening to Ben’s hands on her, she miraculously doesn't tense at all.

“You awake, sweetheart?” His breath tickles her neck, drawing out a soft moan and she tilts her head, hoping for more. “Rey?” He kisses her there, right behind the ear, sucking lightly while his fingers tease her nipple into a hard, sensitive point. “Is this okay?”

“Mmm,” she nods in the dark, knowing he will understand, but he’s always so careful, his hands are still gentle, soft, warm but not insistent, petting.

Until she shifts onto her back to give him more room, moans and opens her eyes to see him, to watch the desire burst into a live fire in his dark eyes, his mouth parting over hers. “Please,” she murmurs, inviting, taking his hand in her own and drawing it down to where her legs have fallen wide. “Ben, please.”

His mouth on hers is scorching and he groans when she accepts his tongue eagerly, sucking on it like she would other parts of him, one hand guiding his fingers underneath her panties, the other driving into his hair, fingers tightening viciously. She rarely gets to see this side of him, though she knows it’s there, so often the focus is on her and her quest for pleasure, he keeps his needs, his lust carefully controlled. But she wants to see it now, to spread herself open and let him consume her, languid and wriggling with anticipation like a playful cat.

“What do you want?” He asks, breaking the kiss to slide down her body, the damp heat of his mouth still incredibly good even through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. He laps at her nipple until Rey forgets the question, his fingers below finding her slick and ready, easily slipping inside without resistance, curling carefully until she gasps and her body arches into his.

“Rey?”

“Just like this,” she murmurs, already feeling heat rise along her spine, that undefinable sensation of something bright and pure kindling with the slow glide of his fingers and the pressure of his mouth. Her hand holds him to her, keeping him there, sucking and rolling her peaked nipple on his tongue, the other scrabbling, gripping the sheet beneath her fingers in a hard fist. 

“More,” she hears herself beg, almost as if it’s someone else’s voice. “Faster, Ben, please, I… I need…”

“God, Rey, you’re so wet, I want - Can I taste you?”

Normally she would squirm at the thought, trying to remember when she’d last showered, hesitant to believe he really wants to put his mouth down there, but that internal argument is over before it begins. She’s so close, so keyed up little, unintentional noises escape her throat and whimpers fall through her parted lips as she wriggles free of her panties and nods her consent.

“Yes,” she exhales sharply, even more so when he shuffles down, the first touch of his tongue so exquisite she has to close her eyes and grip his shoulders in an effort not to - not to climax - too quickly. Ben is masterful in his command of her body and when it’s in a mood to respond, he can play her like a well-known instrument, with a single-minded focus that can sometimes be intimidating.

He fists his hands under her hips, lifting her up to his mouth, and - “Oh, oh, Ben - God, yes -” his tongue teases her as deep as it can go, licking her open even further, and she is nearly limp in his hands when his mouth closes firmly around her hidden little nub.

“Ben!” Her eyes squeeze closed and her body jerks of its own accord, waves of pleasure just beginning to break over her. There's no stopping it now, not that she wants to, but she tries desperately to make it last, knowing how much he likes to watch her, to hear her.

“That’s it, that’s it, Rey,” he breaks only to encourage her, voice a low, possessive growl, “you’re mine, you come for me, say it, say my name -”

“Yes - Ben - Yours -” She can’t form anything like a coherent sentence, and when his tongue laves at her again she breaks completely, jerking and crying out unintelligibly. He keeps to his task, dragging out every last warm wave of pleasure, until she draws in a deep, stabilizing breath and gently pushes at his head.

“God, Ben,” she blinks up at him with lazy, hooded eyes she can barely keep open. “That was… wonderful…”

“Good.” Her eyes open to take in his unfiltered smile, the one that brings out his dimple and is reserved only for her. She feels his fingers at her entrance, prodding gently, and returns his smile with a coy one of her own.

“I think, maybe…”

“You do?”

Rey nods, suddenly shy, but he gets the message, quickly stroking himself and dredging the head in her moisture, groaning again about how wet she is, which would normally embarrass her, but for tonight, at least, she can’t find it in herself to care.

They manage it this time, Rey stays relaxed, limp from the brownies and the recent, overwhelmingly good orgasm, and he doesn’t take long after everything else. She closes her eyes and soaks it all in, writing the feel of him inside her to memory, as accurately as she can, in near-perfect detail. It feels like peace, like home, like… like for once in her life, she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be. A harmonic convergence, if you like.

She winces when he pulls out, and Ben’s arms immediately catch her and pull her close, his nose pressed into her hair, breathing her in as his panting slowly fades. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Rey shakes her head, forces away the tears that threaten. “It was perfect, I just wish -”

“Shh,” he kisses her quiet, kisses her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids, her neck, everywhere until she’s giggling in spite of herself. “Just be here with me now, Rey. Just be here.”

“Okay.” She’s not sure what he means by that, but she tries, putting aside her maudlin thoughts until the sun rises. 

She doesn’t go back to sleep, lying on his outstretched arm, thinking of nothing except an occasional shuddering memory of how it felt.

Three weeks later, she’s sitting in a waiting room one floor above Dr. Kanata’s, filling out a form with the most uncomfortable questionnaire she’s ever seen.

_In general, how much would you say you enjoy sex (stimulation by others that culminates in orgasm)?_

_Thinking back over your life, can you think of any prejudices you may have had towards sex and relationships?_

_What is the most important part of a romantic relationship to you?_

Rey’s still wrestling with these three questions when a woman emerges from the nearby door to escort another patient out, and her attention is caught immediately by the short violet curls framing her face and a selection of eclectic jewelry on her hands, neck and ears. There’s a hint of a tattoo under her long-sleeved blouse, and she is wearing bright pink Birkenstock sandals under her green plaid slacks. Her first thought is this woman can’t possibly be the therapist. 

Her second thought is that she must be, because no doctor’s office she’s ever been to allows purple hair and tattoos for staff members.

Another, closer look tells her the therapist is middle-aged, younger than Dr. Kanata, but still old enough to be Rey’s mother. At a guess, she’d say Amilyn Holdo is around the age of Ben’s mom, and she thinks idly that Leia would probably get along with the other woman like a house on fire, given their seemingly similar taste in fashion. 

And then Amilyn is looking right at her with a question in her lively blue eyes, delicate brows arched as if she’s waiting for a response. Rey coughs and looks down guiltily at the clipboard in her hands.

“Sorry, I haven’t finished…”

“Oh, don’t worry, we can go over it inside,” a wave of a hand with a large, sparkling opal ring beckons her. “You’re Rey, I assume?”

“Yes,” she nods quickly, gathering her backpack and hurrying to greet her new therapist.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Amilyn,” her smile is warm and genuine, and Rey can’t help but like her immediately, though she keeps that thought restrained. They walk down an impossibly cramped hallway into a large office with floor-to-ceiling windows making up the entire far wall, filled with indoor plants and a large, comfortable-looking gray suede couch.

There are Van Gough prints on the walls, interspersed with shelves holding a fascinating collection of pop culture items, from a small lego model of The Enterprise to a painted glass TARDIS and some kind of wand Rey thinks is from Harry Potter. There’s an old-fashioned wooden desk dominating one corner of the room, and amidst the potted plants Rey spies several unmistakable items in pink plastic bins that make her cheeks flush so much she almost misses the degrees hanging on the wall behind it.

Amilyn watches her take in the room with a faintly amused twinkle in her eyes, then gestures Rey towards the couch, taking up a position opposite her in a large wingback with crushed velvet upholstery that has seen better days.

“Not what you expected?” The therapist quips as she settles in.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to expect,” Rey confesses. “I take it you’ve been here a while.”

Amilyn laughs, eyes flitting about the room and over her little collectibles. “I suppose you could say that. I started a lot smaller, most of these things actually came from clients.”

“Oh. I guess that means your clients appreciate you, then.”

There’s quiet for a minute, as the violet-haired therapist looks over the clipboard of paperwork, shuffling through the questions she did manage to answer. She organizes it all into a stack, then tucks it into a manilla file folder with Rey’s initials on it and lays it on a side table, pulling out a notepad and a pen with cute anime kittens on it.

“So, I have Dr. Kanata’s notes, obviously, but I’d like to ask you to tell me in your own words what you’re here for, and what you expect to get out of therapy,” she begins, fixing Rey with a keen but not unsympathetic gaze.

“Oh, I, well… I’m not sure what Maz wrote about me, but I, hmmm… I have issues, I guess you could say, with um… sexual intimacy.”

“And you’re married?”

“Yes, for three years,” Rey pauses as Amilyn writes in her notepad. “Happily, I mean… apart from the sex thing, we really do love each other. And it’s not like… We do other things, it’s just… difficult for me to, um, relax. Because of my history, I think.”

“I read what’s in Dr. Kanata’s notes, so we don’t have to talk about that right now if you don’t want to,” the therapist reassures her. “But tell me more about your intimacy with your husband. How often do you have sex?”

“Umm… That depends on your definition, I guess -”

“Let’s say anything that involves one or both of you climaxing with the other’s help. Oral sex, mutual masturbation -”

Rey squeezes her eyes shut and holds up a hand, the sudden bold terminology making her feel a little faint and oxygen-starved. Amilyn gives her a moment, waiting for her to open her eyes.

“I’m sorry if I upset you. Would you like a glass of water?”

A few minutes later, slowly sipping water and gazing out the big windows that give a beautiful view of a nearby park and uptown neighborhood with lovely back gardens, Rey takes a deep breath and steels herself.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think that would be so… triggering.”

“Can I ask specifically what was triggering to you? It would be helpful to know, if you decide to continue our sessions,” Amilyn asks gently.

“I think just… the words,” Rey frowns, trying to pinpoint exactly when she started feeling light-headed. “I don’t like… I’d prefer not to use that kind of harsh language.”

“Alright. Let’s figure out some different terms then, anything that makes you comfortable. And please feel free to let me know as soon as you start feeling triggered, okay? The last thing I want to do here is upset you.”

“Okay.”

It’s embarrassing, but Amilyn’s kind voice and complete lack of judgment helps, and eventually they have a repertoire of descriptive words that don’t make Rey feel like she’s two steps away from a full-blown panic attack.

“So, you and your husband do other things, not penetrative sex, a few times a week?” Rey nods, feeling relieved that she doesn’t have to spell out exactly what goes where and how it ends. Amilyn makes a note, then continues. “And you feel this is satisfactory for both of you? You don’t wish you had more or less intimacy, and your husband is also okay with it?”

“I think so.” Rey frowns. “I’ve never really… asked him, exactly? We just sort of do what’s natural, for us, anyway. It’s not as though he’s constantly begging me or anything.”

“I think that sounds pretty normal for a couple, Rey,” violet curls bob as the therapist nods her head. “Okay, another question, and you don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable, but it would be helpful to know. How often do you pleasure yourself when he’s not involved?”

“You mean do I…” she can’t quite say the word, blushing profusely and ducking her head, but Amilyn waits her out with a patience Rey has never had for herself. “I do, sometimes, umm… Sometimes, when I take a bath, it’s… It’s relaxing.”

“Do you have any… let’s call them helpful devices, is that okay?”

“You mean like… a vibrator?” Rey can say this one, she knows what they are, she’s been to the sex shop with Rose, however unwillingly, and yes, she does, although she doesn’t use it much. “Ben bought me one a while ago. It’s really nice, but it’s just… I don’t really feel like I have time, and I don’t… I’m afraid for him to see me using it, because he might think I don’t want him, or something.”

Something flashes behind the therapist’s blue eyes, and she makes another note on her pad before following it up with another question.

“Why would he think that? If you happened to walk in on him pleasuring himself alone, would you think that meant he didn’t want to be with you?”

“Well, no, of course not, but,” Rey knows what it’s going to sound like, she can hear Maz’s voice and see Rose rolling her eyes, but this is therapy and it doesn’t help if she’s not honest with how she feels. “Men have needs,” she sighs.

Amilyn, surprisingly, does not look judgmental at all. She just tilts her head, a listening pose, and waits, as if expecting Rey to elaborate. Faced with the threat of an awkward silence, she does just that. “I know it’s stupid, but the way I was raised, women aren’t supposed to even really want sex. You know, ‘lie back and think of England’ or whatever. And he - the man who hurt me - he said if I wanted things then it meant… It meant I deserved what happened to me. So. I don’t know. I suppose I still think it’s not right for me to do that to myself.”

Amilyn is writing when Rey looks up from where her gaze had been fixed out the window, and she looks up slowly, giving her almost a proud look.

“Is that the first time you’ve said that out loud?”

“I… I think so, yes,” Rey laughs a little. “I don’t really think that’s true, my head knows it’s not, but it’s hard to deprogram my emotions.”

“Well, saying it out loud is a big step in the right direction. Now, our time’s almost up, but I want to give you a little homework, if you feel up to it?”

“Depends on what it is,” Rey gives a little shrug.

“I’d like for you to use that toy, at least once, before we meet again. Don’t worry, you don’t have to take notes and I won’t ask what you did, I just want you to think about it, okay? Try having a little patience with yourself, it’s hard to change those patterns of abuse even when we’re adults and know better,” she smiles, tearing out the page on her notepad and slipping it into Rey’s file. “I did see you have a prescription from your gynecologist for a lidocaine gel?”

Rey blinks, surprised to find a healthcare professional who actually read the notes beforehand, nodding slowly.

“So does that mean you’ve already spoken to her about this?” Amilyn continues in her calm, gentle tone.

“Yeah, but she didn’t have much to say, honestly,” Rey shrugs. “They’re very busy there, anyway. If you’re not pregnant or have endometriosis or something, they don’t really have time.”

“Hmm.” This time Amilyn Holdo has nothing to say, though Rey can see from the thin press of her lips that she’s not thrilled to hear it. But that’s not something Rey can change, Ben’s insurance, as good as it is, only has so many gynecologists in network, and if they want to save up for fertility treatments and in vitro, she can’t afford to doctor shop over every women’s health group in the whole city. 

“Unfortunately, that seems to be the common experience. Do you use the prescription she gave you?”

“We’ve tried, but I don’t really think it does much, and Ben complained that it, er, made him feel numb, so -” she laughs, and Amilyn smiles in sympathy. “My friend Rose recommended a specific kind of lube, so we’ve been getting that and it actually seems to work better.”

“That’s good. And it’s good that you have friends you can trust to talk to about this.” She climbs to her feet and Rey along with her, offering her hand to shake, which is cool and firm and not too familiar. “So, let’s give it two weeks, so you have time to try the homework, and next time, if you’d like, we can bring Ben in? Or not, it’s entirely up to you.”

“I, um… I’ll talk to him about it,” Rey makes no promises, because just talking to him about it is enough of a task, and she’s already got the other homework.

It’s been three weeks since that wonderful night when he woke her up after Poe’s magic baked goods, and they’ve done some things in the interim, but she feels like she let Ben down in some way, and even though he doesn’t bring it up - ever - her mind is spinning treasonous thoughts. What if he does catch her with her toy and get angry or jealous? Should she tell him now that she has this homework, or…

By the time she gets outside, appointment reminder card in hand, and climbs into the shop loaner she’s been driving because Ben’s old BMW is languishing in the yard, in need of a transmission flush that she’s been too busy to get around to, Rey’s head is pounding. She finds some aspirin in the glove compartment, downs them with a swing of this morning’s coffee still fresh in her faithful Yeti, and drives back to work, where the afternoon rush leaves her without time to think.

It isn’t until they’re lying in bed, Ben snoring soundly beside her, Zuko snoring somewhat softer kitty snores on his pillow, that Rey remembers her homework and that she was supposed to ask him if he wants to come to her next therapy session. It’s late, and she’s not about to wake him up to ask him.

So of course, she lies awake fitfully instead, and practically assaults him with it as soon as he’s poured himself coffee in the morning.

“Jesus, Rey, the sun isn’t even up.” He scowls, never a morning person, and Rey wilts.

“Nevermind -” He catches her wrist gently in his big paw, turning her around to face him, tipping his head down to look into her eyes. “I’m sorry, I should’ve waited -”

“Rey, did you go to sleep at all last night?”

Sniffling, she rubs her face and tries to hide, but Ben is, as always, more attuned to her than she even is. His hand slips up to rub the back of her neck, and she folds into him, still sniffling. She’s aware of him moving about, shifting her position against him, and then hears a phone ringing, Rose’s sleepy voice on the other end.

“Sorry, Rose, but you’re on your own today,” he mumbles, always more taciturn than he seems to realize, but their friends have long since gotten over the grumpy Ben Solo voice.

“What’s wrong with Rey? Anything we can do?”

“I’m okay,” she huffs into Ben’s sweatshirt. “It’s stupid, I can make it in later -”

“You tell her to stay home and rest, Solo. If I see her anywhere near the shop, I’ll chase her off with a shop broom!” It’s not an idle threat, Rose knows how she gets. Rey just didn’t think it had gotten this bad, but when she thinks about it, insomnia is always the first clue. She should have known weeks ago.

Ben calls in to cancel his morning class, thankfully he only has one this semester as he’s taken on more responsibility for the internet security firm that provides his full-time income, and makes another call to transfer most of his afternoon tasks to a colleague. His boss will bitch about it, Rey knows, but Ben doesn’t care and really, she doesn’t either. If he’s decided they need a day at home in bed, that’s well and good.

She may not trust herself, but she trusts him. 

“I want you to go with me to see Amilyn next time.”

“Sure, Rey.”

“Sometimes I can’t say things and I need you to be my voice.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”


End file.
